


Closure

by aLittleAndaLot



Category: Phan, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan and phil
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, also it is never said that dan and phil are in a relationship, and phil is the sweetest person alive in this, but it is also never said that dan and phil ARENT in a relationship, little!Dan, so again the same as real life, so basically the same as real life, there's mentions of violent events but they're pretty vague
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aLittleAndaLot/pseuds/aLittleAndaLot
Summary: After coming face-to-face with death, Phil seems fine, but Dan isn't handling it well. He finds himself subconsciously falling into old habits-- REALLY old habits. Habits that no 25 year old man should have.It's weird. It's mortifying. Dan wants to fight it with all he has.But the only way to make it stop is to first give in.Luckily, Phil is there to help Dan get some long-needed closure.





	1. All the Bright Lights

5:03pm  
Dan specifically remembers that time, remembers the way the numbers lit up his phone.  
5:03pm  
There’s nothing spectacular about it. It really shouldn’t hold much significance.  
Why does he remember 5:03pm so clearly?

Phil is on his own phone. He’s playing a game. Dan doesn’t recognize it.  
The brightness is on high, and every wrinkle in Phil’s neck casts a shadow as he tucks his chin down in concentration.  
Against the dark of night, Phil looks paler than usual. Somehow, that’s not a bad thing.  
Dan looks past Phil to the streets of London. In between the flashes of other cars driving by, he is free to admire the plethora of twinkling christmas lights that are wrapped around every gate and street lamp.  
The lights always look so nice at night. They make everything seem calmer.  
Calm.  
That’s how Dan feels.  
He hasn’t felt like this in so long.  
Filming videos, writing books, planning a tour, traveling the world, performing onstage, releasing two movies, recording a single… and today. Out since early morning with a group of friends.  
While it all has been fun, he enjoys this the most.  
No more responsibilities, no more deadlines. Just him and Phil traveling home in the backseat of a warm cab.  
Without thinking much of it, Dan checks his phone.  
It’s 5:03pm.

The sound of a horn blaring, the vision of a car spinning out of control, the sensation of two headlights surging closer at 100 kilometers per hour. The vibrations of his own screams banging against the inside of his head.  
That’s the last thing he remembers.

Until the cab driver is asking them if they are injured. Phil coughs. Dan opens his eyes.  
No blood. No flames. No scraps of metal.  
They are parked on the side of the road. They weren’t hit.  
Phil confirms he is uninjured. Dan adds a nod of agreement.  
The driver asks if they want to wait for the paramedics. Phil hesitates to answer, looking towards Dan.  
Dan knows Phil wants them to stay. Just to be certain. But they weren’t hit.  
And they’re only a couple blocks from their building. And Dan doesn’t want to be in this car any longer.  
So he shakes his head, and he steps outside.  
Phil thanks their driver, pays, asking if he himself is alright. When the driver assures that he is okay, they begin to walk the rest of the way back.

The walk is silent. Phil is processing what happened. Dan thinks he should be doing the same, but he doesn’t need to. He feels oddly apathetic. Why isn’t he upset? He should be upset.  
Dan’s feet are dragging a bit. He watches his shoes kick the snow around.

By the time they reach their flat, Phil is ready to talk. He goes on and on about how scary it was, and how incredible it is that no one got hit, and how he wonders if it will be on the news tomorrow. Dan listens, but he doesn’t bring much substance to the conversation.  
Yes, it was scary. Yes, it is incredible. Maybe. They’ll see in the morning.  
Phil says maybe they should go to bed. It’s not late, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

When Phil hugs him and says, “I love you,” Dan reciprocates, returning the hug and saying the words out of instinct rather than actual thought.  
It isn’t until Phil has gone, the door to his bedroom shutting closed, that Dan realizes such an interaction is not normally a part of their nighttime routine.  
But tonight wasn’t normal.

Dan climbs into bed without changing his clothes. He stares up at his fairy lights, willing them to calm him.  
But they aren’t working anymore. He doesn’t feel calm. He doesn’t feel anything.

Underneath their senseless shine, Dan lies awake.  
His head races until only one thought remains. One thought that refuses to dim within his mind, standing definitively between him and oblivion.

5:03pm.

He almost died at 5:03pm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so first chapter-- it's short as heck. The others will be a lot longer and a lot less vague. I just wanted to set the scene and also show where Dan is at emotionally, so hopefully this did the job haha Next chapter will be posted soon! I'm very excited about where this is going!


	2. Control

“Fuck.”

Dan rolled over again, muffling a groan with his overheated pillow. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. He didn't want to think anymore. After tonight, he guessed he'd done enough thinking for the rest of his life.

The vision of oncoming headlights flashed through his mind again, and Dan pressed his face further into the pillowcase. It was scratchy, hot, and he couldn't fully breathe, but at least he was too uncomfortable to form coherent thought. 

As he tugged the blanket over himself, he felt his phone fling over the edge of the mattress. Dan winced, hearing it ricochet off the nightstand on it’s way down. The noise rang in his head, as if it were a gunshot. Realistically, he knew it couldn't have been that loud, but given the quiet of the apartment, it might as well have been.

Dan listened closely for any sign of movement from Phil’s room. The walls were thin enough, he wouldn't be surprised if Phil'd woken up, and just because Dan couldn't sleep didn't mean he wanted to ruin Phil's night as well. 

After a moment of complete silence, Dan propped himself up on his elbows, sheets scrunching around his forearms. He listened again for any creaking headboards or dragging footsteps, but he heard nothing aside from the late-night white noise of the streets below. It seemed Phil had remained entirely unbothered. 

Thoughts concerning the motion of rubber tires skidding against pavement intruded his train of thought once more, and Dan immediately buried himself back into his pillow. 

Face pressed firmly into his sheets, Dan lazily dropped an arm off the bed and began blindly pawing for his phone. His fingernails scraped at the carpet with every miss. Dan devoted himself to ten more seconds of mindless groping before huffing and allowing his arm to dangle.

On the one hand, he’d been glad Phil didn’t wake up because that meant he wasn't a shitty person who'd woken up his housemate at four in the morning.

But, on the other hand, the fact that Phil even _could_ sleep tonight was really... well, it was irritating, to say the least.

They almost died tonight.  _Died._

At first, the shock had him numb. Then, at some point, the numbness gave way to-- whatever this was. All Dan knew was it sucked, and he wanted the apathy back.

He thought Phil might have been upset too, but he heard him laughing at youtube videos just minutes after they turned in for the night, and now-- Now he was asleep! How on earth was Phil sleeping? That could have been it. Their whole lives, everything they’d ever done or wanted to do, just gone. All the birthdays they’d never celebrate, the people they’d never meet, the movies they’d never see, the places they’d never go to, it’d all just evaporate into nothingness for the rest of eternity.

Along with them.

Everything gone. Because of some flashing headlights. To think life could be so fragile, and unpredictable, and _meaningless,_ and-- Dan took a deep breath. He wasn't about to fall down that spiral again. Though, it would be rather on brand for him, wouldn't it?

It was a rather shitty branding, if you asked him. Why did he have to randomly think about death, of all things? Why couldn't it be something else? Anything had to be more uplifting than death. 

Dan's fingertips brushed against cold glass, and he reluctantly rolled out of his heat nest to reach for his phone. His muscles ached at the stretch, but he was able to grasp it, feeling all at once thankful for his freakishly long limbs.

Dan squinted at the blinding display. 4:58 _am._

It'd been nearly twelve hours. Nearly ten of those hours spent thinking about lights and screeches and slippery roads for Dan, and nearly eight hours of perfectly sound rest for Phil. Dan tried not to be bitter, but his will was wearing thin.

Though, he wondered if maybe he was looking at this wrong. Maybe it wasn't Phil who was acting strange. Maybe he was making a lot out of nothing. “A mountain out of a molehill," he could practically hear his grandmother nagging him. Maybe he just needed to stop being so dramatic about everything.

Their cab didn’t even get hit. Nobody got hit. He even saw the driver of the oncoming car step out of the front seat without so much as a scratch on him. It was just another icy road that caused some careless guy to slip into the snow.

Recalling Phil’s comment from earlier about the crash possibly making the news, Dan unlocked his phone and searched google for any reports. If it were a big enough deal to stay up over, surely there would be something posted by now. 

As Dan suspected, however, nothing came up. 

Nothing had been posted, and nothing would ever be posted. Because nothing happened. It _wasn’t_ a big deal.

Dan reminded himself of this fact with every toss and turn and heat-pillow asphyxiation, consistently checking his phone until there was sunlight pouring through his bedroom window.

At the sound of shuffling from the other room, Dan wiped a hand down his face. Phil was awake; that meant it must be an appropriate time for him to be as well.

He looked to his phone for the time once again, but saw it was no longer in his hand. Sitting up, he felt through the sheets, shaking them down. Nothing. It had to be there. Dan kicked his bedding entirely onto the ground before finally standing up and noticing his phone on the nightstand table. What? When did he put that there?

“Okay.” Dan centered himself. “I've got to get myself together.”

He gathered his sheets from the floor, plopping the blankets in a heap on his bed, and grabbed his phone. Somehow, despite everything, he was still shocked to find out it was nearly eight o’clock.

“Shit,” Dan mumbled. He really hadn't even managed a minute of sleep. 

He could already feel the weight of his exhaustion pulling on him. Dan imagined what would happen if he just crawled back into bed, but he discarded that idea. Sleeping the day away would make him seem upset, and Phil would think there was something wrong. Which, maybe there was, but that was Dan's problem. There was no sensible reason for today not to be perfectly normal and productive.

Dan rubbed at his eyes again, trying to get rid of their sandpapery feel, and headed to his dresser. A semi-worn grey t-shirt and pair of flannel pajama bottoms hardly seemed like productive clothing, but right now he was aiming closer to normal. If he was seen wearing the same clothes as yesterday, Phil would get worried, and ask questions, and yeah-- this was easier.

Dan finished changing and stepped into the flat, determined to start the day right.

Coming to the kitchen, he thought of making himself breakfast. That seemed like a productive and normal thing to do.

But as Dan found himself stood at the counter, blankly staring at a stack of porcelain cereal bowls with hardly any concept of how long he'd been standing there, he decided he wasn't very hungry. He closed the cabinet and wandered into the lounge area.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Dan caught sight of his laptop on the coffee table. He practically fell into the couch, and it felt so much more comfortable than usual.

Productive. He needed to be productive.

Dan pulled the laptop towards himself and swirled the mousepad awake. Checking his email would be useful, but his stomach twisted at that thought. He hated checking his email. He had no idea how formal or informal he was expected to be, and he always felt like he was too much one way or the other, so he pushed the idea off for another time.

Instead of heading towards the cesspool of deadlines and demands that was his digital inbox, he turned to a separate, slightly less intimidating task on his to-do list, and opened a word document. His mentions had been filled with questions interrogating him on when he would make his next danisnotonfire video.

Dan looked toward the Christmas tree he and Phil had set up by the window. He reasoned he should be able to have a video filmed and edited before he goes home this weekend. After all, he and Phil had the rest of Gamingmas pre-filmed, and Phil’d graciously taken on the editing job for those videos. All he needed to do was finish editing the bloopers, and that was it.   

It wasn't a lot. He could do it, no problem. He might even be able to have a video up today, if he worked well enough.

Confidently, Dan turned back to his laptop. He looked at the page for a moment and typed in a word.

Then instantly deleted it.

He tried again, getting a few characters further before erasing everything once again.

His eyes glanced at the chrome icon. He forced them back to his document. Already wanting to abandon this, Dan internally lectured himself. He had to get this done. If he didn't, the day would be wasted, and he'd hate himself for it. He didn’t want another sleepless night.

Without much notice, Dan took hold of a nearby pen and began tapping it on the sofa arm in time with the blinking marker on his screen.

He didn't even reread his next sentence before slamming the backspace key.

Creating an outline for his videos had never been easy, but he couldn't remember it ever being this hard either. Dan felt like he had cotton balls clogging his head. His thoughts appeared fuzzy at best, and even when he managed to pry one out into the open, they were vague and difficult to concentrate on.

The pen he'd been tapping made it's way to his lips, and Dan bit down hard.

“Don't you think it's a bit early to be thinking that much?” Phil joked, voice still gravelly from sleep. He yawned as he sat opposite Dan, half-empty coffee mug sloshing in his hand.

Dan reflexively pulled the pen from his mouth and sat up.

“Good morning.” He greeted. Dan straightened his posture, trying to look like he hadn't been up all night, but it didn't matter much. Phil was oblivious.

“Morning,” He replied, taking a large gulp of his coffee. He sat back, squinting at the laptop. “What are you working on?”

“My next video.” Dan said flatly, tapping the pads of his fingers on the keys.

“I may not be wearing my glasses,” Phil stated, leaning toward the laptop, “but that page is blank.”

“Ugh,” Dan lolled his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know that. Nothing sounds right.”

“Maybe you should take a break then.” Phil suggested, setting his mug down and reaching for the remote. He held it out to Dan. “Here, put something on.”

Dan readjusted, pushing it away.

“No, I can't get distracted. Everyone's getting annoyed with me, and I need to get something uploaded.”

Phil shot him an incredulous look, “I'm sure no one’s annoyed with you, Dan. We've got a video uploaded for every day this month.”

He nudged the remote closer to Dan once again, but as an invitation rather than an insistence.

“I'm annoyed with me then.” Dan heard how self-deprecating that sounded out loud, and continued before Phil had the chance to contradict him. “It's been ages, and if I don't do something before the holidays, who knows how long it will be before I get around to it.”

“Alright,” Phil drew back, taking the remote for himself. “Up to you. Let me know if you want any help brainstorming.”

Dan nodded appreciatively, turning his gaze to his screen as Phil clicked the television on.

He tried not to pay too much attention, but when Phil landed on the news station, Dan couldn't help but speak up.

“It didn't make news, I checked.”

“Huh?” Phil looked at him, eyebrows drawn up.

“It didn't make news. I checked my phone earlier this morning. There's no reports.” Dan explained, but Phil still looked lost.

“No reports for what?”

“Um...Last night?” Dan urged ridiculously. 

Phil laughed. He actually _laughed._

“Oh, wow, I'd forgotten about that. Well, I guess it's no wonder it didn't make news.”

“Right.” Dan said.

Forgotten? He was awake all bloody night and Phil had forgotten the whole thing even happened? Great. Just great.

“Not to be a bother, but are you sure you don't want to take a break? You're looking tense.”

Dan consciously smoothed his expression into something more neutral.

“I'm fine.” He shifted in his seat. “I just really need to get this done, and I know if I start watching tv with you now, I won't stop.”

“Okay! Then how about a small break?” Phil negotiated, sitting at the edge of the cushion. Dan watched him curiously.

“How about, uh…” Phil looked around the room in thought before pointing a finger to the gaming system. “A game. Just one round, and then you'll get back to work.”

Dan considered Phil’s request. Just one game. It wasn't like he was getting anywhere with this video anyhow. Doing something fun and interactive might be just what he needs to wake himself up and get his head working right again.

“One round of what exactly?”

Phil beamed.

“Absolutely anything!” He shot up from the sofa, moving across the lounge to crouch beside a pile of games. He shuffled through a few, before raising one away from the pack. “How about Halo 3? We’ll only play until one of us dies-- and with how bad I am that shouldn't take long.”

Dan snorted.  “Yeah, that’s definitely true.”

Phil scoffed in offense and tossed a controller towards Dan.

"Game on, Howell." He inserted the disk, sitting cross-legged on the floor so that he was close enough to see what he was doing.

The game started out alright. Dan was even beginning to feel more like himself as he maneuvered his character from building to building and joked with Phil about the gravity-defying jumping physics. He was having fun.

That was until Phil came out from around a corner, shooting his entire arsenal with no strategy whatsoever. However, instead of pressing the button that would kill Phil with one easy shot, Dan fumbled the controller and managed to jump directly into Phil’s line of fire.

“Yes!” Phil cheered with unrestrained glee.

“That’s not fair!” Dan objected, feeling cheated by his own actions. “I didn’t mean to press that; it doesn’t count!”

“Ohh, so it doesn’t count just because you made a mistake and got yourself killed?” Phil teased, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, exactly.” Dan said, regenerating his character. “It's not going to happen again!”

“What about the video? You only wanted to play one round.” Phil pointed out.

“That round didn’t count.” Dan argued. “You won by _accident._ ”

“But I still won.” Phil grinned.

“Not for long,” Dan grumbled, running his player up a flight of stairs. “I’ll get back to work once I prove your victory was undeserved.”

“You’re unbelievably competitive, do you know that?” Phil said amusedly, resuming his own character. “Whatever. You’re on.”

This time, instead of jumping into Phil’s line of fire, he practically sat down and waited for Phil to get his aim right. He messed up the controls so bad, he couldn’t even figure out what direction he was facing.

“What was that?!” Phil roared, falling backwards in his own laughter. “It looked like your guy was having a seizure!”

Dan choked the hand grips tighter. It didn't make sense. This was one of his best games and, even if it wasn't, he knew enough about general gaming not to mix up simple commands. 

“Shut up! I think this controller is broken.” Dan got up and swapped his controller with Phil’s. “There, you play on the faulty controller now and see what happens.”

“Okay,” Phil humored him, getting himself up and ready to play, “But if your guy starts seizing again, don’t think I’ll take mercy on you.”

Dan tilted forward on the couch, biting his lower lip in deep focus. He absolutely refused to mess up again.

Though, he didn't get a chance to as Phil, not even a minute in, had run himself right up behind him and shot him in the head from two fucking feet away.

“Oh my god!” Phil exclaimed, gasping between breaths. “I can’t believe you--”

“FUCK!” Dan threw the controller across the couch and stood up. “THIS IS STUPID!” He shouted, a sharp pain shooting through his leg as his foot slammed down on the wooden flooring.  

Dan almost instantly whined at the pain in his leg, and felt his eyes prickle with tears. Blinking them back, he felt himself sobering and all the frustration he'd built up seemed to drain out of him.

Phil sat in place, his mouth agape and at a loss for how to respond.

Dan’s eyes widened. Did he really just throw a full-on tantrum? He looked down to the floor. His face burned with intensity.

Phil shifted uncomfortably. “Uhh...”

“I’m sorry.” Dan mumbled quietly, tentatively returning to the couch and absolutely refusing to look back at Phil. “I,” Dan started, trying to think of some sort of explanation, but he couldn’t come up with anything that could possibly justify him stomping his foot like an actual five year old. “I… should get back to working.”

Dan slid his mac onto his lap and pretended to look busy.

“Yeah…” Phil said uncertainly, placing his controller down. Dan’s pulse beat louder as he stood and began to move closer, waiting for Phil to make a comment, but he didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his mug and went to leave.

“Where are you going?” Dan looked up, sounding more needy than he expected. He didn't want Phil to be angry with him.

Phil stopped and turned to Dan.

“To the kitchen.” He said carefully, clearly trying not to set off another mood swing. “To make coffee. This one’s gone cold.” Phil raised the mug in reference.

“Oh,” Dan replied, then suddenly pushed his laptop aside and stood. He took the mug from Phil’s hand. “I’ll do it, then, don’t worry about it.”

“Dan, you don’t have to,” Phil insisted, but Dan was shaking his head. It was his way of showing Phil that he was sorry and also that he wasn’t on the verge of some mental breakdown. Not to mention, he really needed to do something useful this morning.

“I’ve got this, you just stay here,” Dan said, making his way to the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a minute!”

“Um, alright thanks,” Phil responded, but Dan was already out of the room .

Once in the kitchen, Dan went to work as fast as he could manage. He poured the remaining coffee into the sink, and went through the motions of operating the keurig within seconds, having a moment to think while the machine was pouring the coffee, tempted to make himself a cup also.

He came up with several reasonable justifications: the caffeine would wake him, clear up his thinking, help him focus... But, deep down, he knew he really only wanted it to make him feel more like an adult. 

Either way, Dan removed a second mug from the cupboard and placed it next to the keurig. The machine hummed as Phil's coffee finished brewing, and Dan saw the sugar from when Phil had made his first cup still sitting on the back of the counter. Dan hastily reached back to pull the sugar forward, but as he did so, his elbow bumped the empty mug clean off the counter. Dan to jump back as it crashed, accidentally letting go of the sugar which then waterfalled from the counter onto the floor atop the already shattered mug.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Dan frantically pushed the sugar upright, and dropped to his hands and knees, trying to simultaneously collect the fragmented pieces of the mug while scooping loose sugar into his palms and failing miserably. The sugar spilled through his fingers as bits of the mug fell around him, breaking into even smaller pieces.

“Dan, are you alright?” Phil called as he hurried into the room.

“No, no, I’ve got this!” Dan hastily shooed, wildly shoveling what he could gather onto the counter. He couldn't believe he'd managed to screw up coffee this badly. Phil really was going to think he'd lost it. "Go back, it's under control!"

Another fragment of the mug cracked as it hit the floor.

“Shit,” Phil hissed, running to kneel beside Dan, “Let me help you.”

“No! I’ll clean this up, go back!” Dan's skin tingled, heart rate rising. He couldn’t let Phil watch him fail so pathetically, especially after screaming at him.

Phil got to his feet. “Dan, stop! You’re going to cut yourself!” He ordered, worried by the increasing amount of sharp ceramic surrounding them. Phil tried to calm Dan’s arms himself, but he was unable to get a steady grip on either of Dan's wrists. 

“No, no, I’ve got this!"

Phil caught hold of Dan's forearm who violently jerked out of his grasp.

"I’ve got--”

Phil watched as the thrashing hand came in direct contact with a rather steaming mug of coffee, one that was teetering off the counter just above Dan's head.

“DAN, STOP!” Phil bellowed, just barely able to catch the mug and prevent it from falling. He grimaced as the scalding water spilled over his fingers, and pushed the mug a safe distance from the edge.

A cold chill rushed through Dan, and he let his arms fell limp on either side of him.

“Thank you.” Phil sighed wearily. “Now just--  _please,_  just sit still while I clean this up.”

Dan closed his eyes as he felt Phil bend down and begin collecting the broken shards from the floor.

He’d done this. He’d broken a mug and made a huge mess trying to fix it, and now Phil was cleaning it all up for him because why? Because he was trying to prove he could do it?

A thick lump formed in Dan’s throat at the thought. He tried to swallow, but it remained.

But that’s the thing. He should be able to do it.

He should be able to clean up his own mess. He should be able to make coffee. He should be able to lose a game without throwing a fit. He should be able to _play_ that game without getting things confused. He should be able to draft a video. He should be able to fucking _sleep._

He should be able to have Phil yell at him without wanting to cry so bad.

Dan sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut so tight that he saw stars.

What was wrong with him?

“Dan? Are you okay?”

Dan flinched away from the warm hand Phil placed on his back, and a new wave of tears threatened to fall. He felt like a clumsy child that'd been caught misbehaving. 

“Woah, hey,” Phil spoke softly now,  “Are you... crying?”

Dan bit the inside of his cheek. He’d embarrassed himself enough for today. He could attempt to keep at least some of his dignity intact.

“No,” Dan forced his voice to steady, though his eyes remained shut.

“It's okay. We had too many mugs anyway,” Phil mused, a soft smile heard in his voice. “I’ve been meaning to order a new one but we haven’t had the cupboard space. Really, I should be thanking you.”

Dan understood what Phil was trying to do, but it just made him feel worse. He's acting ridiculous, and Phil's here trying to comfort him.

“I’m tired." Dan's voice was tight, but he wouldn't let it break. "I'm going to bed for a while.”

“Yeah, okay,” Phil nodded kindly, “Well, you can stand up now. The floor is clean.”

Dan stood up, though he wasn’t waiting for Phil’s permission to do so.

Or maybe he was. He didn’t even know anymore.

“I’ll come wake you before dinner if you aren’t up by then,” Phil informed Dan’s retreating form which gave a nod of confirmation in return.

Before he’d gone entirely though, Dan made himself stop.

“Sorry. Again.”

“Dan, It’s _okay_.” Phil assured with as much emphasis as he could muster. “Besides, I’m fairly certain I still hold the record for most items broken in this household.”

 

Reaching his room, Dan locked the door behind him as he entered and collapsed into bed. Here, he was finally able to cry and curse this day into the deepest circle of hell.

But, truthfully, he was too tired for that. He was too tired for more crying or screaming or hysterics of any sort. No more.

Dan rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t going to let this continue any longer. He began counting, deep breath in, deep breath out, and slowly, the clot in his esophagus dissolved. It was a small victory but Dan finally felt like he'd done something right today. 

His eyelids grew heavier until he couldn't bring himself to blink them open again.

He was just tired. This whole time, he was just tired.

Everything that happened today, all of it, it happened because he was sleep deprived.

Well, not anymore. From the moment he woke up, Dan swore he would be entirely in control.

No more childish behavior.

 

Dan shot up in bed, a silent scream strangled in his throat. He panted violently in the dim room, cold sweat seeping through his pajamas and clinging to his skin.

Sounds of Phil putting things away in the kitchen could be heard echoing down the hall. Dan shivered, then grimaced. 

Something smelled.

As he leaned forward in bed, he felt wetness run into his bottoms, soaking them further, and realization slapped him across the face. 

 _Please,_  Dan prayed to every higher being he could bring to mind. Any of them, all of them, he didn't care as long as someone heard him.  _Please, just spare me a fraction of my pride, that’s all that I ask._

Stomach plummeting, Dan reluctantly lifted the blanket.

_Oh my god._

“Dan! Are you up?”

 

Do not cry.   _Do not cry._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay 1) i was so late with this update whoops really ill try to be better lol and 2) yeah this chapter is edited, i just... ugh its like this transitional part of the story and im trying not to jump to the good stuff too early but i still want to like my writing sooooo here we are hahah im still not sure if im happy with this addition but i dont think ill be changing it anymore! Im forcing myself to move on (moving on, letting go, holding on till tomorrowwww) Hopefully you like it though! 
> 
> By the way, i may be trying to take this slow, but this is gonna get super cutesy and into some major ageplay so if youre not into that kind of stuff i recommend you jump ship now... youve been warned


	3. Wet

Dan centered all of his attention on the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the wet patch surrounding his form on the bedspread. Though, as hard as he tried, he could not ignore the scent or feeling of his… accident. He cringed, both out of disgust and disbelief, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He’d wet the bed. He actually wet the fucking bed. For the first time in over twenty years, he’d woken up soaked with his own piss.

“Dan!” Phil called again. The sound of footsteps leaving the kitchen snapped him out of his stupor.

“I’m up!” He yelped, scrambling out of his sheets and wiping his eyes. A chill ran down his spine as he exposed himself to the household air. His damp clothing turned frigid, pants clinging to his thighs in a way he thought he’d long forgotten.

He began peeling the shameful material from his skin, wincing against the thick suctioning noise and pretending not to hear the soft slap as he kicked the heavy fabric from around his ankles.

Thankfully, his reply had kept Phil at bay.

“The pasta will be done in a few minutes.” Phil informed him, footsteps returning to the other room.

Dan sighed and stripped his shirt, tossing it to sit with the rest of his soggy clothing. He needed a shower. Immediately.

But that was another problem. In order to get to the shower, he would have to pass by the kitchen. Dan figured he didn’t have much of a choice, though. It’s not like he could just change his clothes and sit down to eat while reeking of urine. God, he didn’t even want to imagine what Phil would say.

Eradicating that thought, he tossed his laundry onto the wet spot of his bed, using his blanket to conceal the evidence. He’d have to wash everything. Maybe after Phil went to sleep tonight he could sneak down to the laundry room.

Whatever he did, he didn’t have time to think about it now. Dan tugged his used towel off the desk chair and covered himself, mindlessly grabbing a change of clothes on his way out.

As he reached the door, he hesitated. If he just kept walking, Phil might not even notice him. Dan knew that was probably more wishful thinking than anything else, but he could still hope.

Even if Phil did notice him, the bathroom wasn’t too far away. He could definitely manage to get there without giving Phil enough time to strike a conversation. Steeling himself, Dan unlocked the door and tiptoed into the hall. He closed it as gently as he could and made a beeline for the stairs.

Phil was turning off the stove as he approached, and, as Dan suspected he would, he turned around as Dan passed by.

“Hey, I’m just getting-- Wait. Why are you naked?”

Dan’s pulse jumped, but he mentally reminded himself not to break stride.

“Shower. I smell.” He explained shortly, plodding down the steps. It wasn’t a lie. Not yet, anyway.

“I just told you dinner was ready,” Phil said, more confused than annoyed. He peeked out into the hall, but Dan had already disappeared down the stairs.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick!” Dan promised, a slam resonating as he secured himself in the bathroom.

He sighed, and turned the spray on hot, placing his clothes and towel in the sink. The water burned as he stepped over the bath, but the sticky coating on his skin instantly began to wash away.

Dan snatched the soap off the wall caddy and squeezed it into his hand, a third of the gel spilling over his palm. He vigorously took to scrubbing his arms, legs, stomach, groin-- every inch of his body. How this had even happened? His mind turned back to thoughts of his dream.  
He couldn’t remember everything, but there were certain sensations he could recall. Now that he was awake, it didn’t even seem all that scary.

_Darkness. Then brightness. Spinning. Restrained. Screaming._

Creepy. But certainly not piss-yourself terrifying.

Not to mention it didn’t take a genius to figure out this was some sort of ptsd-nightmare from the crash. Well, almost crash, Dan corrected himself.

At any rate, he definitely did not pee himself when it had actually happened, so why had he now, when the incident was only a vague imitation?

Dan turned the shower off, and stepped onto the bathmat, slipping the towel from the sink and drying himself. After dressing into the clean long-sleeved shirt and sweats he’d taken, he sniffed, trying to gage whether or not he’d fully gotten rid of the stench. Just to be certain, he spritzed on some of his cologne. He looked in the mirror. He knew he was being paranoid, but the possibility of Phil finding out terrified him.

Phil wouldn’t make fun of him-- he wasn’t like that-- but the whole thing was humiliating enough as it was. Perhaps someday, someday in the very distant future, he could tell him, make a joke of it, and they could laugh.

Today, however, that wouldn’t slide. Especially not after this morning-- Fuck. This morning.

Everything he’d said and done rushed back, and Dan smacked himself. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about any of this.  
No, there was no fucking way he could tell Phil. It would only solidify the rest of his childish behavior. He told himself he would take back control, and that was what he was going to do. Counting out a slow and steady breath, Dan left the bathroom and climbed the stairs to the lounge.  
Phil was sat at the front end of the dining table, scrolling through his phone as he picked at a bowl of steaming pasta. Another bowl, accompanied by a glass of ribena, was placed in front of the seat next to him. Dan sat down in his chair, drawing Phil’s attention.

“Hey, have a nice shower?” He smiled.

“Yeah, sorry to keep you waiting, I really needed it. Didn’t want to suffocate you with my B.O.” Dan joked nervously, relieved when Phil laughed, buying his excuse. He picked up his fork. “This looks great, thank you.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t burn the house down. There were a few close calls, though.” Phil set his phone down, and took a bite of his meal.

“Oh, God.” Dan stabbed into his own bowl. “You could have killed me in my sleep.”

“But I didn’t!” Phil bragged through a mouthful of food. He swallowed. “How did you sleep, by the way? You seem better.”

Dan felt a tell-tale blush creeping up his neck, but he kept his voice casual.

“Pretty good,” he said, looking at his speared pasta. “I do feel better.”

“That’s good.” Phil seemed awkward.

“What?” Dan asked, perturbed by the concern in his lingering gaze.

“It’s just…” Phil sounded unsure. “I’ve been thinking and… If you’re having problems because of what happened in the cab yesterday, you know you can talk to me about it, right?”

Dan’s lungs deflated.

“Why would you think I’m having any problems?”

Phil raised an eyebrow, and Dan couldn’t blame him. Still, he stuck to his position.

“Well...” Phil began, deciding to avoid the obvious response, “You’ve had trouble sleeping.”

“It was one late night.” Dan contended as if that was really all it was.

Phil reeled back, not having wanted to start an argument.

“I’m just saying if you are having any issues, I’m here.”

“Thanks, but the car didn’t even crash, Phil. It’s not a big deal. I’m fine.” Those words. The same words he’d been repeating to himself for the past twenty-four hours. And honestly? They didn’t sound any more believable out loud.

Dan bit the pasta off his fork.

“Alright, as long as you’re okay.” Phil conceded. There was a small span of silence as they both chewed their food. “I, um, was thinking we could start watching Steven Universe tonight.”

The questioning lilt in his speech had Dan feeling guilty. He wasn't mad at Phil for caring. Looking up, he smiled at him and nodded.

“Sounds good to me.”

After Phil was done eating, he stacked his bowl atop the small mountain of dirty dishes they have growing in the sink, silently promising to clean tomorrow. It was technically Dan’s turn to take care of them, but right now, Phil wasn't so sure Dan could even take care of himself. So he didn't bring it up.

Dan didn't finish his meal. Phil, already standing, insisted on storing the leftovers for him. Dan wanted to protest, but he reluctantly held back and allowed Phil to take his bowl away.

Transferring to the couch, he caught sight of his laptop. He’d left it thrown aside on the couch cushions, but it was now neatly placed on the coffee table.

Great. Another one of his messes Phil had cleaned up.

Dan set up the television and waited mindlessly for Phil to return. He dragged the throw over his lap, staring at the threads. Where was his phone? Hadn't he left it in here?

Phil strolled back into the room, looking somewhat surprised to see the show already queued up. Dan ignored that.

“Hey, have you seen my phone?”

“Oh,” Phil stopped walking, “I put it on a charger. It's right in the kitchen, do you want me to go get it?”

He preemptively turned back around, but Dan stopped him.

“No, it's fine. Come on, sit down so we can start.”

Phil moved to the couch, leaning against the arm as the theme began to play.

About halfway through the first episode, Phil glanced over to see that Dan had shifted. His eyes were fixed on the screen, but his entire body had tilted towards Phil’s end of the couch, legs bent slightly, subtly curling in on himself.

As they plowed through episode after episode, Phil continued to observe as Dan gradually sank into the cushions, silently taking note of how he was holding the blanket in balled up fists, how his half lidded eyes widened comically during the fight scenes, and the way his mouth parted open slightly, his knuckles just barely grazing his lips. It was like he was sleeping with his eyes open, utterly oblivious to anything outside the pastel colors glowing through the screen.

As the credits began to roll on another episode, Phil checked his phone.

“I’m kind of tired.” He said, and Dan paused the television.

“Oh, okay. Are you going to bed?” He sat up, stretching his back as the blanket fell into his lap. They’d only been watching for a couple of hours, it wasn’t even midnight yet. Then again, Phil had gone to bed early the night before as well, and he hadn’t had the advantage of sleeping through the entire afternoon.

“Yeah I think so.” He stifled a yawn, lethargically hoisting himself from the couch. “You staying up?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I won’t watch anymore without you.” Dan said, clicking out of the episode guide.

“Alright, well you know, try not to be up too late.” He brushed a hand over Dan’s fringe as he walked by, smiling as Dan soured over the curls that flopped onto his forehead and frustratedly mused the strands back into place.

“Phil!” Dan whined, but his complaints were only met with a giggle.

“Goodnight.” He said with a grin, taking his leave.

“Goodnight.”

Alone now, Dan turned to Netflix and searched for something else to watch. Scrolling through his recent shows, he settled for putting on an early episode of Black Mirror. It was a good one.

During the opening sequence, however, he felt his mood turn uneasy. Dan hugged the blanket closer, and focused on the storyline.  
He’d already seen this. He knew what was going to happen. But as the suspense of the episode gradually began to pick up, so did his anxiety. The eerie tones and dark atmosphere that were once intriguing suddenly seemed too intense, especially at this time of night.

A bang in the music made Dan jolt violently, and he closed his eyes, grabbing for the remote. The tv off, he sat stiffly in near pitch-black darkness. He wished Phil would just waltz back into the room and offer another episode of Steven Universe.

Phil. He was probably asleep by now. Carefully maneuvering in an attempt to avoid bumping into anything, Dan stood and tip-toed down the hall.

Approaching their bedrooms, he could already hear Phil’s deep breathing.

Dan turned into his room and reluctantly took to the task at hand, carrying off his wad of putrid fabric to the laundry room.  
He leaned against the machines, scrolling through his phone and listening for any opening doors or wandering footsteps as he waited. He began to doze off as the dry cycle came to an end, the beep of the timer waking him from his haze.

Sleepy but relieved, Dan shuffled his laundry back to his room and remade his bed, collapsing face-first onto the clean, warm sheets. He took in a deep breath and relaxed. No crying, no hysterics. He’d gotten through this dilemma just fine. Maybe he was okay.

Shucking off his shirt, Dan rolled over and nestled into his pillows. The soft sounds of passing traffic faded away as he drifted out of consciousness.  
\--  
_Darkness. Then brightness. Spinning. Restrained. Screaming._  
\--  
The sky still spotted with stars, Dan lay trembling and wet, tears coursing down his cheeks.

Maybe he wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, hi, it's me. I don't even know what to say about this wait. I started working on this the day I uploaded chapter 2 and ended up almost uploading and re-writing this whole thing four times, but I think I like what I ended up with. I really am sorry, classes are a hassle, and I've taken on so many projects, but I'm always looking for time to write. I wish I knew a better way of keeping my uploads consistent, but I promise you guys I'm taking this until the end. I'm not abandoning this work. Thank you for your patience, and I hope it won't take me this long ever again. (By the way, I am SO GLAD that some of you are so into this, I'm doing my best to make sure it's good!)


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